


Backstage

by silveryogis



Category: Karneval
Genre: Boyfriends, Established Relationship, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Someone stop me, backstage sex, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 19:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveryogis/pseuds/silveryogis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gareki meets Yogi backstage before a Circus show, and things get really out of hand really quickly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backstage

**Author's Note:**

> Another thing from tumblr, aw yisss. It's just smut. That's all it is.

“I didn’t think you’d be able to find me,” Yogi says, smiling and setting Nyanperona’s head down on the ground between his feet. Gareki stands in front of him, hands in his pockets, just looking around like he’s mildly interested. “It’s pretty confusing back here.”

“It wasn’t that hard,” Gareki shrugs, and then he’s frowning down at the Nyanperona head and Yogi’s feet. “You’re wearing that thing in the show?”

“Of course I am,” Yogi tells him, leaning back against the backstage wall. “The kids love Nyanperona, Gareki.”

“Tch,” is the only response Yogi gets, but more often than not it’s good enough, so he shrugs it off. He asks Gareki if he wants to see more of what’s backstage, because he’s looking around like he’s interested and Yogi really just wants to get him alone, alone because the two of them are so rarely alone and they get so few chances. When Gareki agrees, there’s something like a flash in his eyes that lets Yogi know he’s thinking about the same thing, too.

For a while, Yogi makes like he’s showing him around. “This is where they hang up the curtains, isn’t that cool?” And Gareki slides a quiet hand into his back pocket and shrugs, “Yeah, I guess.” 

Yogi does everything he can to hang on to that feeling of Gareki’s hand slipped into his pocket. He doesn’t usually do much to signify to other people that they’re together, but sometimes he’ll be quiet about it. Yogi leads him behind the stage to the other wing, and someone bumps past them carrying a large prop, and Yogi starts to think that maybe being backstage with Gareki is a bad idea, they can always find another quiet place some other time, some place much quieter and much safer than—

He feels the squeeze of Gareki’s hand, reads what almost looks like a flash of wickedness in his eyes, and decides that waiting would be stupid, waiting would be so _so_ stupid when they’re both here, and they have time. Time and a dark corner, hidden by curtains, and when Yogi finally draws that curtain around them, they’re already kissing, already tangling their legs together and pushing against each other. 

“How much time do you have,” Gareki asks, jamming a leg between Yogi’s thighs. He feels his shoulders hit the wall and then Gareki is close, so close and so insistent. “I don’t want—”

“Thirty minutes,” Yogi mumbles against his mouth, cupping his hands around Gareki’s face to kiss him slow and deep. “Just thirty minutes.” 

Thirty minutes seems like nothing compared to the time he wants to be able to spend with him, not when they get so little time as it is, not when someone’s always bursting in or when something always _happens_ ; all Yogi wants is hours and hours uninterrupted, he wants this _forever,_ it feels like. The slow, building heat of Gareki’s closeness, the way he can feel his cock pushing up against his hip. 

But he doesn’t have hours, so he rolls his hips into Gareki’s and groans a little at the way their erections rub against each other, through too many layers of clothes and something has to be _done_ about that, Yogi thinks. 

“Shh,” Gareki murmurs, pressing a hand to to Yogi’s chest. He didn’t even realize he was making noise but he must have been, because it feels so good, too good to be pushed against a wall in the dark with Gareki undulating against him, his breath sweeping over his neck. Yogi tilts his head and drags his hands down Gareki’s sides, reaching down to squeeze his ass. The noise he makes is so rewarding that Yogi squeezes again, kissing down his neck, sucking on his skin and sweeping his tongue across his collarbones. He can feel the other boy curl against him, can feel him shudder, can feel everything.

“Gareki,” Yogi mumbles, groaning again when Gareki’s thigh pushes between his legs—he pants a little and grinds against him, listening to the way his breath sounds strangled in his throat, the way it sounds like he’s trying to hold something back. He’d do anything to coax those sounds out of him, Yogi thinks, so he reaches down and pushes a hand into his pants, wrapping his fingers around his cock. 

The reaction he gets is so, so fucking worth it, he contemplates never wrapping his hand around anything else _again,_ because Gareki’s head falls forward and he lets out a muffled groan into Yogi’s shoulder. “Shit,” he mumbles, bucking his hips like he doesn’t want to, just yet, but he can’t _help_ it. “Fuck, that feels—”

“It feels good?” Yogi asks, just because even now he still feels like he wants that confirmation, even though he can tell that Gareki feels good because he’s gasping against his neck and practically shoving Yogi _into_ the wall.

Their mouths meet again, and Yogi licks over his teeth as he works his hand, wanting Gareki to feel good, wanting everything to feel _glorious_ for him like he knows he can make it. He wants Gareki to shudder and break because he knows that when the pieces come back together, they’ll fit better than they did before, just a little. He _wants_ that for him.

Gareki seems to have other ideas.

Yogi doesn’t even really realize what he’s doing until it’s too late to stop it, until Gareki’s hands have pushed Yogi’s pants down around his thighs and freed his cock from his underwear, he doesn’t even have time to think about what’s happening before Gareki drops down to his knees and starts kissing down his stomach, his fingers skating over the muscles there. Yogi’s breath hitches.

“Gareki, what are you—”

“I said quiet,” Gareki said, spreading his hands over Yogi’s hips, squirming just a bit closer.

Breath flares over him, and Yogi feels dizzy.

For a moment, Gareki’s eyes flick up to meet his, and they’re dark but blown wide, holding something that looks just a little wicked, something that makes Yogi’s head spin. Makes _everything_ spin.

But nothing makes him feel quite as good, as so _so fucking good_ as when Gareki opens his mouth and sinks around Yogi’s cock.

His head slams back into the wall and he groans loudly, earning him a pinch from the boy between his legs. Right, right, quiet. He can be quiet. He can definitely, absolutely be qui—

Gareki starts to suck, and it’s all over for him at that point. It’s dark and he can hear people milling around on the other side of the curtain and Gareki is sucking on his _cock_ and now he doesn’t want to be anywhere else ever again. Yogi pants, and then Gareki’s pulling him down; he slides up his shirt to kiss his stomach again and lays him out over the floor, hooks his elbows with Yogi’s knees. 

“Promise you’ll be quiet, he says, the words skating over Yogi’s skin. He squirms a little and his back arches.

“Yes,” he gaps, jutting his hips up, needing contact again. “I promise Gareki, I promise, just—”

And then Gareki dives back down, starts sucking on his cock again, and Yogi _keens_ with how good it feels. It’s overwhelming, everything, the way his tongue flicks over the head, the way his mouth flexes and the way he moans quietly, letting the hums reverberate over him. 

Yogi can feel it then, the desperate need for orgasm building in him, and as much as he doesn’t want to, he can feel it coming, he won’t be able to help it, he’s going to come hard in Gareki’s mouth, Gareki, Gareki, _Gareki—_

“Don’t,” Gareki says, pulling away, licking a tongue over his lips. “Don’t come yet. We’re not done.”

“But you’re so good,” Yogi purrs, reaching to pull at Gareki’s shoulders, adjusting his position on the ground as Gareki slides up over his chest to kiss him. “You’re too good, Gareki.”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Gareki murmurs, and as Yogi reaches to unbutton his pants, he squirms closer so that he can. “Can you do something for me?”

“Anything Gareki, anything.” Yogi frees Gareki’s cock from his boxers and starts stroking it again, circling his hand around both of them, listening to Gareki’s strangled sigh as they rubbed together, Yogi’s cock still slick from Gareki’s mouth. 

“Then fuck me.”

“Wh—”

“ _Fuck_ me,” he repeats, tugging more at Yogi’s pants. “We have time, just make it quick, I want—”

“Gareki, are you sure, usually there’s a lot more—”

“Just do it, we’re wasting time, don’t—”

“I don’t want to hurt—”

“Fuck, just _do it_ ,” he gasps, and since it’s been so, so rare that they’re able to have proper sex, Yogi nods in quick jerks, tugging at his pants so they drop around his knees. 

“I want you to feel good,” he murmurs in his ear, circling an arm around him. “So tell me if it doesn’t feel good, Gareki, I want you—”

He uses one hand to work their cocks, slowly this time, kisses him, and slowly pushes a finger up inside him. Gareki whimpers into his mouth, bites down on Yogi’s lip. 

Now, it’s Yogi telling him to be quiet, calmly rolling his tongue around his. Gareki’s body wants to be frantic, Yogi can tell, but he needs him to relax so he keeps working at him, whispering in his ear. _You’re so good,_ he whispers, _you’re so beautiful like this, you’re going to feel so good, I promise. Just let me make you feel everything._

When Yogi can tell he’s ready, when Gareki demands it for what seems like the hundreth time, he flips him over onto his back and straddles him, checking behind him once to make sure the curtain is still drawn, to make sure they’re still hidden. They are, and when Yogi positions himself over him, he hears someone call for everyone in the show to report to the stage. _Later,_ he thinks, slicking his cock with one hand, never taking his eyes away from Gareki’s face. _I’ll just be late._

He slides in slowly, carefully, still afraid of hurting him because he’s still pretty sure that Gareki could break if he pushed too fast too soon, and he doesn’t want that, not yet. Hands grip at his shoulders, and Gareki lets out a heavy moan.

“Is it—”

“S’good Yogi, it’s good,” he manages, and at the sound of his _name,_ Yogi feels his cock jump. He pushes in again, bracing himself as he starts to fuck him slowly, head spinning with how good all that _heat_ feels. He can see Gareki gritting his teeth, and he knows it doesn’t feel good yet but it will, it _will._

“Do you want more?” he asks, the words lost somewhere in Gareki’s mouth. “Tell me—”

“Yeah,” Gareki nods clumsily against him, drags teeth along his jaw. “Yeah.”

Yogi bites down on his own lip and starts to fuck him faster, holding him so tight and thinking that he needs him so much, that he loves him _so much_ and that this—even if this isn’t the best place, even if they’re doing it a little too fast with a little too much tongue and Gareki keeps cursing in his ear and he can’t seem to stop moving now that he’s started—he thinks that this is beautiful, even if it’s just a little bit dirty. Gareki drags fingernails over his back and starts _whimpering_ in that beautiful, low growl of his, and Yogi knows he feels more than just _good._

He’s so focused on how Gareki feels that he doesn’t even realize he’s going to come until he’s _right there_ , right there and heaving into his neck. He can’t think about anything other than all that tight heat around his cock, not anything other than that heat and Gareki’s voice and his hands tangled in his hair. Gareki pulls, and Yogi lets out a cry.

“Ga—Gareki—” he heaves, so close, so _so fucking close it hurts_ , and Gareki is so busy groaning that Yogi doesn’t even think he’s noticed, when—

“Don’t,” he demands heavily, voice strangled. “Don’t stop, I’m gonna—fuck, Yogi I’m so cl—”

Gareki comes, and the mess of it slicks the front of his stomach; all it takes is Yogi one, two, three more pushes before he’s doing it too, crashing over him, the look on Gareki’s face enough to drag him over the edge.

He removes his face from Gareki’s neck and hovers over him, noses barely brushing, mouths open and gasping from the effort of sex. Yogi pulls out of him and sits back on his haunches, watching as Gareki slowly sits himself up.

“How was that?” he asks softly, passing his shirt back over to him while Gareki cleans himself off. He doesn’t even remember taking Gareki’s shirt _off_. 

“What the hell do you think,” Gareki asks, making it sound like he’s irritated but there’s a smile on his face, and Yogi thinks he would do just about _anything_ to Gareki to keep him smiling like that. Yogi smiles back at him and stands up to fix his pants and readjust all his clothes; Gareki does the same, and then they’re kissing again, just soft little things.

Yogi loves him so, so much.

“They’re calling for you again,” Gareki says, tipping his head to the curtain. “You’d better go put that stupid cat suit on.”

“Yeah,” Yogi says back, kissing him one more time and brushing his nose against his. “Alright, I’ll see you later, Gareki!” He smiles and kisses him on the nose and ducks out of the curtain, scampering quickly back over to where the Nyanperona costume is hung up, but not before Iva gives him a _look_ that chills him right to the bone like she knew what was going on.

“Just put your head on,” she tells him loftily, and Yogi ducks gratefully into the Nyanperona head, happy that she can’t see how red faced he is.

Gareki’s smell still clings to his skin.


End file.
